everyday is a dream
full of monsters
that dance with me to the edge of my grave.
they're the kind
that make art out of peeling off their skin
and selling there souls
they call it
happiness.
emptiness.
what's the difference these days?
everyday is a nightmare of beauty
a dream full of monsters
flickering like flames to a fire, just waiting to die.
and
i want to press my bones against the lips of life
that open my eyes every morning but im too dead to breath..